ο»Ώ"Step right up! Test your strength against the Tower of Power! Do you have what it takes to dethrone the champ?"
A man dressed in black and gold finery shouted across the meandering circus crowd, drawing the attention of attendees who wished to prove their might. Across the midway, Danny - who had been deeply engrossed in a colorful jester's performance - turned to face the commotion. The jester huffed as a number of their spectators shifted attention to the flashing tower and shouting carnie.
A young college student with a meager stature and no real muscle to speak of, Danny had never been one to prioritize physical might. Still, the idea of impressing a crowd with raw strength held some appeal. He stood at a respectable 5'10", and what he lacked in athletic form, he made up for in earnest charm. Framed by short but messy blond hair, his face was soft and sported a kind grin and tender eyes. Sure, his appearance wasn't turning heads, but he believed that a kind heart was more important than a conventionally attractive body. Even so, sometimes he simply wished he could have both.
As Danny strode over to the high-striker game, a group of familiar voices pierced the crowd. Mike Gunderson and his friends strode up to the game, laughing and jeering as Mike took the hammer from the carnie and made a show of flexing before winding up for a big swing. A classmate from Danny's college, Mike was Danny's polar opposite. He had bulging muscles, numerous championships as captain of the wrestling team, and a reputation for bullying those he saw as weaker. Despite this, Danny had tried his best to connect with the man, hoping kindness would break through his abrasive shell. And yet, with each attempt, Mike only seemed to bully the meager boy more relentlessly.
Danny watched with anticipation as Mike brought the hammer down on the lever, and the gathered crowd held its breath. The puck shot up the tower, only to lose speed about halfway up and crash to the bottom. The crowd began to disperse as it became clear that even this ripped college athlete had failed the challenge. As Mike's friends teased him and the carnie gave a conciliatory remark, Mike's shoulders sank and he visibly deflated. Rejoining his posse, Mike shrugged off their jabs. Despite Mike's constant ill treatment of him, Danny sympathized with his bully, dashing through the crowd to catch the retreating group.
"Michael!" Danny shouted, grabbing the gang's attention as Mike whipped his head around. "Hey man! That was a good try! I'm sure you'll get it next time." Danny let out a big grin and reached forward to pat his classmate on the shoulder, only to have his arm violently batted away.
"Oh for fuck's sake. A soft weakling like you wants to give me shit, too?" Mike huffed and scowled. "It's a shit game, and I'm over it. Besides, you couldn't even swing the fucking hammer." Mike's friends chuckled along with his insults, almost causing him to forget his humiliation.
Danny looked down, dismayed. "No. I just wanted to say it was really impressive-"
"Well, keep it to yourself. I don't need pity from a weakling like you, got it?" Mike shoved Danny backwards and turned away, his friends laughing at the poor boy as they melted into the crowd.
Just a hundred feet away, the performing jester peered out across the midway to see the scene play out. Closing their performance with a bow, they scampered off and watched as the boy dusted himself off and thrust his hands in his pockets, tears welling in his eyes. Watching as Danny sulked off into the crowd, the jester reached into their colorful coat and pulled out a small music box, cranking it as they snuck along ever-so closely behind.
~~~
Wandering through the crowded tents and attractions, Danny tried to stay upbeat and not wallow in his. Sure, some of what Mike said was true. He was weak. He couldn't play sports or stay in shape. He would never stand up for himself. But did that really matter? What was the point of being strong if he didn't have a heart?
A sour jingle rang through the air as music interrupted Danny's thoughts. He glanced around and realized there were no longer dense crowds surrounding him. The stalls and tents around him looked empty and abandoned. The sound of this faded, out-of-tune jingle in the air became the haunting melody of an eerie, liminal space.
Danny whirled around, and behind him he found the source of the melody. At the end of a long alley of abandoned tents stood an enormous canvas big-top surrounded by trees and covered in vines. The exterior appeared worn and tattered, but the flaps were pinned open and Danny could faintly spot swirling lights as if a performance was in progress. No sign marked its purpose, and no one stood outside beckoning him in, and yet Danny felt compelled forward, curiosity overtaking unease. The lilting music summoned the boy forth, a drunken chorus echoing within his head. Danny swaggered towards the tent, almost unaware of his actions.
Peeking in through the open flap, Danny's eyes flitted about, expecting to see an audience or performers, however all he could make out was an empty tent. From the inside, the canvas looked vibrant and new as colored lights danced around it. The source of the lights - and the music, for that matter - remained a mystery. Again, strange curiosity compelled him forward, and Danny took a few uneasy steps through the threshold.
With a flash, the dancing lights whirled around the room, sending Danny's head spinning. The music crescendoed in consort with the lights, picking up speed like a fading music box being rewound. Shaking his mind free from the stunning display, Danny wheeled back in time to see the canvas flaps of the tent close behind him, encasing him in a chamber of dizzying sensations. He gripped his temples and tried to regain his composure, redoubling his effort to search for an explanation.
"H-hello?" The boy called out, feeling himself shake with uncertainty and fear. No one else was clearly visible in the tent. No performers or attendees. Was this a prank pulled off by his tormentors? Could they have even orchestrated such a thing? "M-mike, if this is you it's not funny. I'm sorry for making things worse, just p-please let me go..."
"Let you go? But we've only just begun!" An unfamiliar voice echoed through the tent with sensational flair. "Tonight's performance is a very special one, I hope you're very excited! I'll be your ringleader for the evening, Cornelius." With a burst of smoke in the center of the ring, the lights all focused on a lone figure who Danny swore had not been there before.
He was tall: about six and a half feet, Danny guessed. He wore a sparkling red and gold coat with long coattails and held an ornate baton in his large, meaty hands. His slacks hugged tight along his strongly-defined thighs as his sleeves bulged against his impressive biceps. Atop his head sat a tall black hat with gold and red ribbon above the brim. His shiny black shoes were enormous; Danny couldn't even guess at the size. The man was a mountain, towering over the meager boy in both stature and demeanor. He stood center-ring with overwhelming confidence and domineering showmanship.
"But please, put your hands together for the real star of the show: Danny!" The sounds of applause and cheering filled the tent, with no visible audience to produce them. Danny stared at the man, dumbfounded. Cornelius winked the boy's way and spoke out in a lower tone, "I understand you may find this overwhelming, but I assure you by the end, this show will exceed your wildest dreams."
Danny didn't know what to say. While the idea of being welcomed into an act was flattering, the shock and surprise left Danny anxious, and a deep unease was filling his gut. His head still spun from the bombardment of lights and sounds. "I-I'm genuinely flattered that you'd do all this for me, but... I feel a bit out of it and could really just use some water and a chance to sit down..."
Danny started backing away slowly, but felt a soft hand on his back. With a jump he turned and saw the jester from before, their colorful clothes sparkling in the dancing lights. "Ladies and gentlemen, my assistant: Beck!" The jester waved to the nonexistent crowd, then nudged Danny toward the center of the tent and made an exaggerated blowing motion with their hands and lips. A strong force sent Danny stumbling back towards the ringmaster, who produced a wooden stool and placed it in the middle of the tent. With incredible grace and strength, he guided Danny into the seat, his firm hands grasping the boy's shoulders and pulling him down.
